


steal your heart away

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, F/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Sex, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned get drunk together for the first time. At Ned's fraternity house, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	steal your heart away

"Hey. Cinderella."

Ned's rich baritone carried over the din of the crowd, and Nancy's chin jerked up in answer. The entire lower floor of the Omega Chi house was a mass of bodies, most in orange and purple sweatshirts and striped scarves; it seemed as though half the spectators from the afternoon game had followed them back. The accumulated body heat was welcome after the biting wind; the snow had come back, in erratic drifts, and Nancy's face was still prickling from the change in temperature.

Nancy began to move toward her boyfriend, through the chattering, laughing, drinking students, and met Ned halfway. As soon as they were close enough to touch she launched herself into his arms without a thought. She felt her pale blue ribbed turtleneck slide up at the back, above the waist of her denim miniskirt, as Ned gathered her up in his embrace. She clung to him fiercely, her face against his neck. He smelled like soap and cologne and warmth.

After a moment Ned pulled back with a slight grin. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied, and brushed her reddish-gold hair out of her face.

"You okay?"

She nodded, and ran her fingers through his hair, still a little damp from his post-game shower. "I'm okay."

His grin widened. "Did you get to see any of the game?"

"I got there right after halftime." She matched his grin with one of her own. "Oh man, Ned, you were _amazing._ "

She gave him a kiss and he released her, sliding his hand down her arm. His fingers folded around hers and she gazed up at him. He was radiant, as well he should have been. He had been directly or indirectly responsible for at least half the baskets she had seen.

Even though she could tell he was fairly bursting at the seams to talk to her about it, he leaned down and put his mouth against her ear, and only then did she realize how loud the conversation around them still was. "And he's gone?"

Nancy nodded, a small shiver traveling down her spine at the feel of his breath against her skin. "Yeah," she replied.

The case had been incredibly strange. Jason Millner, a star sophomore on the Wildcats varsity team, had received an unusual, vaguely threatening note, and when the campus security force hadn't found any leads, Ned had invited Nancy to investigate. She had taken the excuse to visit and see him, but untangling the case itself had been difficult. She had finally traced the note back to the sender: Lark Woods. He saw the players all the time; he was employed by the company that provided cafeteria services to the college, and it had been impossible to find the link until she realized that he worked in the dining hall closest to the gym, that he saw the players all the time.

The night's game was between the Wildcats and their biggest rival, and Woods, enraged by Millner's lack of response to his note, had resolved to demonstrate his devotion to Millner and the rest of the team through some unmistakable display. As they had raced to track him down Nancy had urged Ned to get to the game, telling him that she would be fine; before Easterling had been able to arrive, though, she had discovered Woods was on the roof of the gymnasium.

There had been moments, up there, while she was shivering in her leather jacket, trying to talk him down, that she had been sure he was going to kill her. He was almost incoherent, and half of what he said seemed to be part of a conversation he was holding in his own head. He had been lucid enough to recognize her, and of course he had seen her with the team in the dining hall. He had muttered something about her being a distraction, to him, to the team, or to Ned, she didn't know, and had taken a gun out of his pocket, and aimed it at her.

And she, half-frozen from the driven needles of the wind, almost shaking with panicked adrenaline, had managed to keep stalling, to draw his attention away from the roof access long enough for Easterling to come through. For a tense handful of moments it seemed that Woods wasn't going to give up his hostage or on his plan to kill himself during the game, but Nancy and Easterling had managed to disarm him and take him into custody without incident.

The Omega Chi house was beyond warm, but the fear lingered, that terrible flash of realization that Woods wasn't wholly there or sane, and it had been entirely possible that nothing she could do would get through to him. Even now, she wasn't sure if he had any idea why Easterling had taken him into custody, or why what he had done was wrong. She had just been an obstacle in the way of his dream, of finally gaining Millner's attention. His small off-campus room had been papered in Emerson pennants, posters, and sports gear.

From the second he had pulled the gun her gaze, her attention, all of her will had been focused on it, as though through sheer desire she could stop him from pulling the trigger.

 _Ned._ She had been fervently glad he was out of danger. Fear for herself was one thing, but at least he hadn't been there.

She couldn't imagine never seeing his face again, never feeling his hand brush hers again. He led her back to the kitchen, to the line of liquor bottles and half-emptied soda bottles, their hands linked, and she kept gazing at him, tracing the strong line of his jaw. The counter in the kitchen was covered in potato chip dust, sticky melted ice cream, spilled soda and pools of water that had once been ice. Ned selected the diet soda for her without asking and she accepted the cup gratefully, raising an eyebrow as he picked up a bottle of rum.

"Want some?"

Nancy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

He was twenty-one; she was twenty. And it wasn't that she hadn't had a drink before, because she had. He tipped the equivalent of a shot and a half into the red plastic tumbler and she stirred her drink with a straw, then made a face after the first sip.

Ned chuckled at her, constructing his own drink. "Want a little more soda?"

She shook her head, taking another sip. "Nah, I'll be okay."

Maury Beckman was busily assembling a spaghetti tangle of cords between the television set and a laptop, in the television room. The recording wasn't the official one, but someone with a nice digital camcorder, much better than the usual grainy cellphone footage, had taped the game, and Nancy was drawn into it. Ned sat down on the couch and pulled her half into his lap, and she sat with her arm draped around his shoulders, watching the players streak across the court, the ball moving rapidly between them. The other partygoers, especially the girls, cheered whenever the Wildcats scored, booed when their opponents managed to sneak one by. Ned was clapped on the back and shoulder several times as they watched him score again and again.

Her boyfriend could only take so much adoration, Nancy knew. After a while he just began to shift uncomfortably, although both their gazes were still riveted on the screen. Nancy had just finished her drink when Ned leaned over and murmured into her ear, "So what happened?"

"We found him on the roof of the gym. Well, I found him," she amended, and told him what had happened. She paused before she came to the part about the gun, and then felt him tense under her, his hand tightening on her waist. She had to speak directly into his ear; if anything, the party was getting louder, more out of control. Jan offered to bring them refilled glasses and Nancy and Ned accepted gratefully, before Nancy put her head back on Ned's shoulder and continued her story. She was finally starting to feel warm again, especially when she was so close to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.

The Wildcats had just pulled a point ahead and the crowd around them burst into reminiscent cheers when Nancy shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. Her face was starting to feel a little flushed. Maybe Jan had brought her some of the spiked punch. "So Easterling said that Jason would never understand what had happened, not unless Woods told him, and I don't know how but he finally convinced Woods to write a note, and managed to get the gun out of his hand."

Ned visibly, if only slightly, relaxed at that. "I should have come with you," he said quietly.

Nancy nodded at the screen. "You would have lost the game."

"But I could have lost you," he said, squeezing her side again. "Nan, you _have_ to stop taking these kinds of chances." His voice was tight with worry and concern.

Nancy shook her head. She was suddenly too aware of everything going on around her; the voices were too loud, the space too tight. She squirmed off his lap, turning to face him. "If I hadn't he would have killed himself, Ned."

She wasn't sure how loudly she said it, but several of the fraternity brothers and their dates and guests turned and stared at her. She flushed, which irritated her further, and God, it was so hot. Ned, with one brief glance around him that incensed her even more, stood and grasped her arm.

"Nan..."

She jerked and saw his expression darken, but his grip tightened. He steered her to the kitchen with more force than was strictly necessary. The few couples already there gazed at them in open interest, especially given the look on Ned's face. He directed his angry gaze at them and they departed, eyes cast downward, looking sulky.

In the meantime Nancy had found a clean cup and was making herself another drink. She poured in another few fingers of rum and finished it off with more soda, stirred it rapidly with a straw, then took a long sip. The rum burned a little, but the headache she was just beginning to feel started to recede.

"Nan," Ned tried again, but she could see how hard his jaw was clenched, that little nerve pulsing in his forehead. He was angry. Very angry.

She was irrationally itching for an argument, but at the intensity in his expression she found herself quailing a little. She wasn't afraid of him, she never had been, but they could have this argument in their sleep, and probably very nearly had. "I don't want to fight about this," she said, and took another sip of her drink.

Ned grabbed the bottle of rum and splashed some into a glass, tossed it back neat. "You think I do?"

She shook her head wearily. "Sometimes, yeah. You don't trust me."

He took her face between his palms, and she could smell the rum on his breath. "Because you aren't immortal," he said. "You're just so vulnerable—"

"I'm not vulnerable," she returned, frowning. "I could take you."

He gave her a look that said he highly doubted it. "So you just decided that instead of waiting for the cops or backup or _anyone_ , you were going to go up on the roof after a total psycho who, for all you knew, had the place ready to blow."

"So instead I should have waited and been standing there at the doors when he threw himself off the roof."

Ned frowned in response. "You don't know he would have done it."

"I know he was _planning_ to do it. How do you know the gun wasn't loaded with blanks?"

"And you're always going to assume it is, until you're lying on the ground bleeding out?" Ned choked up at the end of it. "God, I hate even letting you out of my sight."

"I can handle myself," she repeated, taking another sip of her drink. She put it down on the counter. "Besides, somebody throws an elbow wrong and you'd be in traction."

"Getting hurt on the court is totally different from facing down a gun."

"But you choose to do it," she said. The room just kept getting fucking hotter. "And I choose to do it."

Ned shook his head. "I can get you on the floor, pinned, in under a minute. And this is _me._ You've been lucky, God, so damn lucky for so long, but you run into someone who's got fifty pounds and and six inches on you and it's over. Not to _mention_ someone who isn't afraid to use a gun."

Nancy tossed back the rest of her drink. She could hear her heart clearly now, pounding in her head, hot and angry, and everything she had never quite been able to say was just behind her teeth. "So you don't want me to be happy."

"Nan," Ned said, pained.

"No, really. You just want me at home, knitting or whatever the hell, on carpet because _God_ what if I fell on hardwood, like some toddler—"

"Now there is a _huge_ difference between being some mousy housewife and, I don't know, not fucking confronting crazy gunmen."

"So what am I allowed to do, Ned," she said, staring up at him. "Where's the line. Since you know what's good for me."

Ned threw his hands up in the air. "I can't talk to you when you're like this," he said, twisting the cap off the rum bottle.

Distantly she was aware that she had never quite felt this disoriented before, this uninhibited before. She took the bottle after him. "I'm surprised you're even letting me do this," she said, rolling her eyes as she tilted more into her cup.

"Can you stop being such a bitch—"

Nancy gasped. " _I'm_ being a bitch? _I'm_ the one being a bitch? Do I tell you that I hate you being so far away from me, that every time anyone hurts you when you're playing football or basketball or, hell, doing _anything_ , that I can barely stand it? Do I tell you to hang back on the bench instead of going out there and playing just because something _might_ go wrong? Ned, I could die in a car crash tomorrow—"

Ned's face creased in pain at the thought. "But I don't sprawl out on the freeway asking for it," he returned.

"But it's like you're saying that I can't _do that_ because _you_ don't think it's okay, because you don't trust me—"

"It has nothing to do with trust," he said, and his eyes narrowed. She took a quick sip of her drink and put the cup down, and then he grabbed both her wrists at once, his grip like iron.

"Ned," she gasped out, and realized just how drunk she had to be, disoriented as he twirled her around. She kicked back with more force than she intended and Ned's hip struck the countertop, and he jerked her hands down, pulling her off balance.She recovered with some effort and when Ned tried to grip both her wrists in one hand to free his other, she squirmed hard, managing to free one hand.

Then he gripped the back of her neck, and when she jerked her elbow back, he twisted out of the way. He grasped her around the waist, pinning her free arm to her body, and as he bore her down she kicked and squirmed, twisting so she was on her back once she touched the floor.

He grasped her wrists again, and her head was spinning, her mouth dry, face flushed. He jerked them up over her head and when she brought her knee up, he winced, then maneuvered so he was pinning her thighs down under his legs. He pressed her wrists down against the woven kitchen rug with one hand, and brought his other hand to her cheek. With his index finger he touched the soft flesh under the point of her chin.

"And I could end you, like that," he said softly, and when she looked into his eyes the triumph was faint. He didn't want to be right. Not about this.

"That's why I have you," she burst out, struggling under him.

"But that's all," he said, and he didn't relax his grip. "Because you don't listen to me."

"And you don't listen to _me_ ," she retorted, and when he finally released her she scrambled to her feet, gripping the counter to keep her balance. She felt lightheaded once she was at her full height, and took another sip of her drink. She heard Ned rise behind her, but she didn't turn.

Ned touched her back. "I know," he said softly, and she finally did turn. "I know it isn't easy and it isn't going to be easy and there is no answer for this. I know that no matter how often I tell you that I am terrified because I know one day your luck is gonna run out, that it won't stop you from taking cases."

"So what do you want to do."

Ned shrugged, and a small smile touched his lips. "Handcuff myself to you and be your personal bodyguard," he said, and his fingertip stroked down her cheek. "I don't know. Maybe if you carried a gun, _something_..."

Nancy shook her head. "There's just so many ways that can go wrong, Ned."

"I know," he sighed.

She cupped his jaw in her hand. "You worry about me a lot, huh," she said softly.

He nodded. "You have to know that."

She glanced down. "For a few minutes there I was sure I was a goner," she said. "And I was just glad that you weren't there too, that you weren't in danger."

Ned shook his head impatiently. "God, Nancy. I _always_ want to be there to help protect you. _Always_."

She took another sip of her drink. All she could taste was the soda; the rum didn't even burn on the way down anymore. A few of the fraternity brothers came in to fix drinks, and Nancy and Ned stayed quiet until they walked back out again.

When they were alone Ned moved forward and took her in his arms, her back against the counter. She rested her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes. His lips brushed her temple.

Another wave of partygoers came in, and they didn't part. Even though she felt like she was burning up, she didn't want to give up the euphoria his embrace gave her, and just nestled against him. With a soft sigh, Ned finally pulled back to gaze down at her.

"Guess we should get back out there, huh."

"Guess so," she said reluctantly. She topped her drink off, and he his, and they walked back out with their hands joined.

She hadn't stayed at the frat parties too long before. The later the hour, the louder the crowd was, and the more clothes came off, even though the wind seemed to roar around the side of the house. At least ten people were gathered around the coffee table playing quarters. Another group seemed to be playing some ridiculous variation on strip poker. A girl walked by in jeans, a lacy red bra, and a striped Emerson scarf, and Nancy glanced over at Ned, smirking when she saw his gaze follow the girl.

"What," he said defensively, when he looked back at Nancy. "She just... looked cold."

"Sure," Nancy said, laughing.

They joined the group playing quarters, although Nancy kept sipping from her drink even between rounds. Ned bumped his shoulder against hers.

"Might wanna slow down."

"Why?"

"'Cause I think you're getting drunk."

Nancy shook her head. "If I were drunk could I do—"

She shook her head vehemently, but when she stilled her head didn't, quite, and she grasped the edge of the coffee table.

"Yep," Ned said knowingly.

She took the next shot anyway, because Ned was too damn good at this game, and barely felt it going down. She was pretty sure he flubbed the next two just so she wouldn't have to, and soon she had to go to the restroom.

She had to concentrate very hard on walking in a straight line as she approached the stairs, and she started giggling on the way up. By the time she reached the landing she was doubled over and laughing tears had come to her eyes. Her skin felt almost numb, and when she washed her hands, gazing into the mirror, she had to blink several times for her image to come into focus. And her mascara had run a little. She dabbed a tissue against her lower lashes, glad the counter was there to keep her upright.

She had been buzzed before. But this, this wasn't buzzed.

Nancy walked down the stairs, a firm grip on the railing, and when she almost missed a step she started giggling again. She could see Ned waiting for her, at the foot of the stairs, and when she was three from the bottom she slipped again and fell, laughing loudly.

"Yeah," Ned said, shaking his head. "You are fucked up, babe."

She gazed up at him, at the gleam in his eyes, the flush in his cheeks. "And you aren't?"

Ned leaned down to her, planting the heels of his hands on either side of her. She searched his gaze. "Maybe a little," he said with a lopsided smile, and she could smell it on his breath.

"Come here," she murmured huskily, sliding a hand into his hair and drawing him down to her. He kissed her hard, propping one knee on the stairs between hers, and she let out a little moan as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

"You are so far gone," he chuckled when he pulled back.

She tilted her head. "I kiss you when I'm sober."

"Not like that."

She extended a hand and he took it, helping her to her feet. She giggled as she pushed herself up. "One more," she announced.

"One more and you'll be playing strip poker."

She led him to the kitchen. Her feet felt like they were about a foot off the ground, and it was getting harder to focus on anything. God, she felt amazing. "You want me to?"

Ned's eyebrows went up, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" She glanced at him over her shoulder as she uncapped the vodka bottle.

"You don't want me to answer that."

Nancy finished mixing her drink and took a sip. It tasted like soda. Her hand hadn't been too steady when she had been pouring the vodka. She turned around and propped her elbows on the counter, jutting her chest out, and gazed up at him from beneath lowered lashes. "Sure I do."

He took her drink out of her hand and took a long sip, then shook his head. Another set of laughing couples walked into the kitchen, and Ned leaned forward, cupping her jaw, his mouth against her ear. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'd love to see you play strip poker. With me. Only me."

She knew she was flushed already, but another wave of heat rose to her cheeks, and she was grinning when he pulled back. "Hmm," she said softly, and ran her fingers through his hair. "I must be drunk because that sounds like, the best, idea."

He kissed her lightly, and she reached for her drink again.

They went back to the living room, to the couch, and she sank bonelessly onto the cushion, sandwiched between her boyfriend and the upholstered arm. She tilted her head back and when the turn came to her again, she waved her fingers in the air, and everything was so loud, so muddled, but nothing could hold her attention.

Nothing other than Ned, warm against her side. Her insides prickled with delight at his laughter, and every time she felt him shift she had to fight the impulse to reach for him, to reassure herself with a brush of her fingers against his leg.

"Okay," Ned finally said, slapping his thighs. "I think that's it for tonight. If I take another shot... whew."

As he pulled himself to his feet, Nancy picked up a shot of something amber from the coffee table and took it, feeling only the slightest burn against her throat. It took her three tries to get to her feet, and after each attempt she laughed harder, and her stomach was painful from it when Ned finally succeeded in helping her up. She collapsed into his arms, shaking with giggles, and he patted her back, swaying a little himself.

"Want me to walk you over to Theta Pi?"

Nancy held him tight as she leaned back to look up into his face, the bland innocence of his expression. It wasn't like he expected her to say yes. "Not really," she admitted. Her mouth was so dry.

"I don't think you'd make it five feet without me."

"I would make it _fine_ without you," she countered, putting a hand on her hip and throwing herself almost off balance in the process. "But I kinda want to lay down for a minute."

"Okay, miss independent," Ned said, bemused, as he followed her to the stairs. "By all means, go ahead."

He was right behind her, and when she was halfway up she carefully, painstakingly managed to turn around. "You think I'm just—just some—"

Ned paused, his eyes warm as he gazed up at her. He reached for her hand, his other already firm on the railing. "Just some what," he prompted softly.

She shook her head. "Don't you give me those damn sexy eyes," she said, and Ned burst into warm laughter. "Don't."

"Very sorry," he said, but he kept laughing. "Keep going."

Nancy huffed, then shook her head, stumbling a little. "What was I saying."

"That you are a strong, amazing, gorgeous woman and any man would be delighted to have you." He slurred it a little, but Nancy didn't care.

"Yeah."

Ned nodded and Nancy turned back, heading up the stairs.

Once Ned closed his door behind them and turned on his television set, Nancy frowned and reached for the fly of her skirt.

"Hmm?" Ned's wide eyes went from what her hands were doing up to her eyes.

"Can I borrow a shirt?" she said, pushing her skirt down. Ned rummaged in a drawer, shooting a glance over his shoulder at her as she reached for the hem of her shirt, then drew it over her head. She saw him take a hard swallow before he tossed her a black Emerson Athletics shirt.

Ned toed his shoes off. "I like that," he said.

"What?"

"Seeing you in my shirt."

She smiled. "I like wearing your clothes," she said, and crossed to the bed, pulling the covers back. She took off her watch and earrings and put them on his dresser before sliding into his bed.

"So how long did you want to... hang out," he said, stumbling a little at the end, and she knew that wasn't what he had been about to say.

Nancy yawned. "I just need to rest my eyes," she said. "Except..." She groaned. "'Cept now I need to go to the bathroom again."

Ned shook his head, then winced. "Thirsty?"

"Oh my God, so much."

Getting to the bathroom this time was even harder. On the way she felt a few speculative, almost openly questioning gazes on her, but she was concentrating hard on keeping upright and didn't care. While she was washing her hands she heard someone loudly throwing up nearby, and she closed her eyes for a moment, praying that she wasn't that drunk. Her mouth felt nasty, so she brushed her teeth quickly with her finger and a dab of toothpaste, then scrubbed most of her makeup off.

Ned handed her a glass of water when she returned to his room. "Still need to lay down?" he asked, studying her carefully.

She nodded and took a long sip of the water. Ned rummaged in one of his drawers and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, then handed her two.

"What's this for?"

"You'll thank me later," he said, tilting his chin up.

She took the aspirin and slid back into bed, watching him take a dose as well. Ned sat down beside her on the bed and she noticed, suddenly, that he was in his underwear. He looked down at her.

"So I want to go to sleep but I don't want to miss you being here."

Nancy yawned hugely. "So maybe we should both go to sleep and we won't miss anything."

Ned chuckled. "So you want to sleep over?"

She stretched. "That okay?"

"Of course."

He turned the light off, and the only illumination was the bluish square of the television screen. In his bed, under the sheets, his warm skin touched hers, and she sighed. He nestled under the covers and she turned onto her side to face him, and he curved an arm around her.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," she said, wrinkling her nose, and nuzzled into his shoulder. "I hate it when you're mad at me."

Ned sighed and stroked her hair. "Wasn't mad," he murmured. "I just worry so much about you, Nan."

"I can't change that," she said softly. Her fingers drifted across his chest. "I wish I could. I wish I could make you not worry ever."

Ned shook his head, then turned onto his side to face her. "I'm never gonna stop worrying about you. I love you too much."

Nancy reached up and touched Ned's cheek, and she could feel her heart beating hard as they moved toward each other. Their mouths met and he tasted like mouthwash, and he was warm, and she was very, very aware of how little the two of them wore. She shifted from her side onto her back, her fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt over his shoulder blades, and his chest was firm and solid against hers as he rolled with her.

Their kiss was broken when she rubbed her inner thigh against his hip. He touched her hip and curved his thumb under the elastic of her panties, and she blinked slowly up at him, her lips warmed by his kisses, arching up into his touch.

She bit her lip and then pulled the shirt off, dropping it over the side of the bed. "I like that even better," he murmured, taking his own shirt off, and she hesitated for another second before taking her panties off. She loved the way his fingers felt over her skin when he was the one taking her clothes off, but she wanted the warmth of his body against hers even more.

As soon as he was naked she rolled onto her side, wincing a little at the way her head spun in response, then leaned down and kissed him, her entire body humming with pleasure as he cupped her breast. He reached down and boosted her hips, pulling her on top of him, and she shivered as the comforter slipped down to bare her shoulders. He pulled up the blankets and she parted her legs, straddling his hips.

"Hang on," he murmured, and she could feel him, hard under her, as he rolled onto his side to pull open his bedside table's drawer. Then he reached for her, kissing her hard, and she moaned into his mouth, their skin tacky with sweat. She trailed kisses down his neck, her hips moving over his, her slick inner flesh tender against the hard heat of his sex. He grasped her ass, pushing her down against him, and she let her mouth fall open as she pushed herself up, her palms planted over his shoulders.

She knew she was playing with fire but oh, oh God, how amazing it felt. She ground her hips down against his and felt him tremble under her, his large hands cupping her hips, stroking, caressing. He grasped her breasts, then leaned up to flick his tongue against her nipple, and she shivered against him in response.

"Nan," he murmured, his voice breaking at the end of it. The blanket slipped down again but she could barely feel it; his palms stroked down her back as she rose over him, her blue eyes hazed with desire as she gazed down at him.

"Do you..."

She shook her head. "I just want you," she told him, blinking slowly as she rubbed deliberately against him. "God," she moaned, her long hair swaying against her shoulders as he touched her knees.

He held her to him as he rolled with her, his gaze locked on her face, and she touched his jaw. He glanced over at the bedside table again and she gently turned his chin so he was facing her again.

"Just you," she whispered, wrapping her legs around him.

He lowered his face to hers, touching his forehead to hers, and she ran her fingers through his hair, let them drift down his spine. "I love you," she whispered just before he kissed her, his chest warm against her breasts, his palms cupping her hips as he moved over her. She wasn't pinned under his weight, not yet, and then he reached down and—

She gasped against his kiss as he angled himself against her, guiding the sensitive head of his sex down the slit of hers, over her clit, over the slick folds of flesh. She trembled under him, in anticipation and desire, arching up to meet him, and he kissed her neck ashe fitted himself just inside her, his thumb brushing over her clit. She whimpered, letting out a soft moan, and when Ned moved back to look at her she raked her nails down his back, swallowing as he pushed inside her, no condom between them.

"God," they murmured together, her hips surging under him as they joined, the slick heat of her enfolding him. She kissed his neck, caressing his hips as he gently rubbed her clit, and he let out a soft groan as she dug her fingers into the flesh of his ass.

He grasped her ankles and parted them, then held her to him as he rolled over. When she was on top of him again, their hips still joined, he slipped his hand between them.

"Oh my God," she whimpered as he touched her clit again, and she slid down, taking his full length. The numbness was wearing off, thank God, and every brush of his fingers over her made her tremble. When she began to ride him, roughly, his breath turned to harsh pants, his thumb rapidly circling the sensitive nub of flesh.

"You feel so good," he groaned, pressing against the small of her back to angle her hips against his. She parted her knees a little more and hung her head, her mouth falling open at the way he felt inside her. She tightened around him and he gasped, arching. She did it again and he grasped her hips hard.

"More," she whispered, purred, and giggled when he rolled over with her. He sank into her and she tightened deliberately at the deepest point of his thrust, and he growled, grasping her knees. He pushed them back to her chest, and she jerked under him, tilting her chin back and baring her throat as his sex pushed swiftly into hers.

She cried out his name, grasping his shoulders, shaking as his thrusts became faster, harder. Her mouth, her throat were dry from gasping in her breaths, and when she pulled him to her for a kiss he slowed, his hips rocking sideways against hers. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, bit it gently, and he pushed up on his knees and plunged into her again.

She came apart underneath him, trembling, and Ned grunted with every spasm of her inner flesh against him. He sank to her and their hips made the smallest movements, and when she shook under him he kissed her in return, sucking her lower lip into his mouth.

Then he pushed back, gazing down at her, and they were both flushed and panting, hips still moving languorously in counterpoint.

"We... shouldn't've..." he said softly, but she could see such desire in his eyes.

"How does it feel?"

Ned rolled his eyes. "Amazing," he breathed, and swallowed.

She smiled. "Good."

"How do _you_ feel?"

"Exhausted," she admitted, and stifled a yawn. "That was soooo good."

She pulled him down and kissed him, and he grinned.

"You are going to be hating life tomorrow."

She ran her hands through his hair. "Are you gonna be here to hold my hair and kiss it and make it better?"

He smiled. "Are you?"

"Only if we can do this again sometime."

He brushed his fingertips over her cheek. "Definitely."


End file.
